A honey-bee searched for long and at last found a golden chance. A flower brimming with honey.
Round and round it came. Zoned to the flower. Sending signals all sides and return signals show the coast is clear. Rest assured, it wooed the petals and lo! drank the nector. No end it seems, the stalk is full and flowing still!
But fate had its terrible sadistic strain. Just about at that time, a bit of frost rolled on to the bee. All its movements marred. And the lover of honey is barred from the acme of joy. There was a smear of derisive smile, called frost.
This imagery Sri Harsha Deva employs to elucidate the fate of unconsummate love.
In his Priyadarsika, there is a sloka :
sanjaata saandra makaranda rasaam kramena
paatum gataccha kalikaam kamalasya bhrunga:|
dagdhaa nipatya sahasaiva himena chaasau
vame vidhau na hi phalanti abhivaanchitani ||
Round and round a bee was rimming
The Lotus in blossom full
The juice was aplenty
The bee forgot itself in drinking the honey.
Marred by the fall of inopportune frost
Lo! stranded in the half drunk joy's misery.
When fate wills otherwise
desires fall short of just the fruit.
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May be some lover was about to kiss and missed.
May be the tide repulsive.
The mood estranging.
The enchantment broken in the mid
Like a glass cup by the finger slip.
Sri Harsha Deva should have been a good lover. That means he should have missed a lot and not have missed to give a deep thought.
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